


Donnic Bakes a Cake

by MalcolmInSpace



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Beefcake Hawke, Mage Hawke - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmInSpace/pseuds/MalcolmInSpace
Summary: The city is in danger?  Donnic's dinner is in danger!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayspaceelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayspaceelf/gifts).



“Well,” said Isabela with a mocking purr, “has got to be the most delicious thing I’ve seen all week.”

“Isabela,” Aveline replied with a much less friendly, if somewhat sleep-fogged tone, “what are you doing in my bedroom and also get out.”

Isabela opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a particularly resonant snore from Hawke.  From her vantage atop the wardrobe, Aveline’s bed was a delightfully crowded mass of entwined muscle and fur.  On one side was Aveline, her toned, freckled, scar-laced limbs tangled in the sheers.  On the other side was Hawke face-down, his hairy, beefy back exposed down to his hairy, beefy butt.  He had one arm sprawled across the width of the bed, his fingers on Aveline’s far shoulder.  Donnic, who somehow managed to look the softest of the trio, was sandwiched in the middle, lying on his side with one arm over Aveline’s belly.  At the bottom of the bed was Barkspawn, lying on his back across Hawke’s calves and twitching and whuffing quietly in a doggy dream.

Aveline scowled and tried to rise, but both Donnic and Hawke instinctively tightened their grip.  She gave an exasperated but not unhappy sigh.  She looked up at Isabela and scowled again.  “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Isabela hopped off the wardrobe, landing lightly on her booted toes despite the two-meter drop.  “Something’s up with Varric.  He asked me to collect you and the fur-beast here and meet him at the north gate.” She smiled fondly at the sleeping mabari.  “Speaking of furry beasts, I have something for our four-legged friend here.”

It was a fresh cow bone, still sticky and covered with chunks of meat and tendon.  The second Isabela took it out of the waxed wrapping, Barkspawn’s head shot up.  Aveline barely had time to try and shout no before chaos erupted.  Nearly fifty kilos of muscle and bone tried to go from prone on his back to launching through the air without any intermediate movement.  Barkspawn shoved Hawke’s lower body off the bed.  Hawke, startled into shouting wakefulness by the barking, thrashing, exuberant mabari, clutched at the nearest thing.  Which was Donnic.  As Hawke slid off the bed he hauled Donnic with him and the two men went crashing to the floor in a tangled, naked heap.  Aveline managed to avoid being pulled with them by springing to her feet off the other side of the bed.  She pulled the bedsheet with her, trying to maintain some modesty (and only partially succeeding, to Isabela’s delight).  Barkspawn crashed full-force into Isabela and carried them both to the floor.

And so the day began with Hawke and Donnic clutching each other in astonishment while Isabela sat cackling in delight with a drooling, tail-stump-wagging mabari overflowing her lap gnawing on a massive bone.   Aveline wrapped the sheet around herself and marched out of the room, muttering to herself.

 

One of the things Isabela had the least patience for in the world was watching other people put armour on.  All those buckles and straps to cinch and tighten.  It was fun enough getting it all off, especially in a hurry, but getting it on was no fun.  Especially when the people in question were as incessantly domestic about it as Donnic and Isabela.  At least all Hawke had to do was throw on a robe, that bizarre chest piece thing, his one gauntlet and the smear some paint on the dog’s face and his own.  Smear was probably too crude a word given the artful patterns Hawke, but he also made a cute pained face every time she used it.  Hawke, Isabela, and Barkspawn hung out on the front stoop of Aveline’s house making puns about passers-by until the other two emerged.

Aveline and Donnic clanked as they embraced, then Hawke put his arms around them both and kissed each with equal gusto.  Isabela feigned a vomit face at Barkspawn, and he cocked his head at her and whined in confusion. She rolled her eyes and rubbed his big square head.

“Right,” said Hawke, his arm around Donnic’s waist, “whose problems are we solving today, and will there be a dragon?”

“There’d better not be,” Donnic said sharply.

“There won’t be,” Aveline said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hawke replied, “we’d be fine.  I’d stand at the back and our wife is very tough.  She’s got that big shield, and she’d probably just scowl it to death.”

“I would not!”

“Yes, you would, dear.” Hawke kissed her on the cheek. “You’re very scary when you scowl.”

“It’s true,” Donnic agreed, and Isabela nodded.

“If the world is ever about to end, they just need to call you and you can disapprove of it until it goes back to normal.”

“ANYWAYS,” Aveline interjected, “What does Varric need us for today and how much do I not want to know?”

Isabela shrugged and straightened. Barkspawn gave a pathetic whimper and pawed at her boot.  “No idea,” she said. “I didn’t ask. Knowing Varric it’s either carta or darkspawn and either is usually good for a laugh.”

Donnic crossed his arms.  “Well, either way, you’d better be back by sundown.”

“You’re so cute when you’re concerned,” Hawke said, squeezing Donnic’s shoulder. “Isn’t he cute?”

“He’s very cute,” Aveline agreed with an affectionate smile.

Donnic brushed Hawke’s hand off with an exasperated sigh. “You can both get chewed on by ogre, just make sure you’re back here at sundown. I’m making dinner. We have guests coming over. I _baked_.”

Hawke raised his hands in mock surrender and gave Donnic a crooked grin.  “Alright, alright, I’m sure we’ll be back in time. After all, we’re going out with Varric and Isabela. When does that ever go wrong?”

“Well-“ Aveline started.

“Except for that time.”

“There was-“

“Or that one.”

“What about-“

“The building was on fire when we got there! How many times do I have to tell you that!”

“You were dancing around it with no shirt on and yelling ‘screw you you Tevinter bastards’.”

“Circumstantial evidence!”

Donnic put one hand over his eyes.  “Just… just go. I’m going to be late for my patrol. But you will be back here before dinner is served or…” He spluttered for a moment, unable to find a sufficiently dire threat. “Or I will be _very_ disappointed.” With that he marched off, spine straight and shoulders square.

“I do love that man,” Aveline said fondly.

Hawke didn’t respond until Aveline smacked his arm. “What? Sorry, I was hypnotized by his butt.”

“He does have a very grabbable posterior,” Isabela said appreciatively.

Aveline nodded. “Yes. Yes, he does.”

 

Varric’s issue turned out to be Tevinters, not darkspawn or carta. Which was good, because it meant no Deep Roads or remote dwarven holds. But bad, because rooting out the ‘vints was always a multistage process, what with all the fights in warehouses, tracking down magisters, and listening to their interminable monlogueing.  It also meant that Hawke and Isabela owed Aveline a gold piece. Isabela had bet on it being carta, Hawke on the darkspawn. Both of them tried to offer graphically biological services in lieu of gold. She took Isabela’s gold.

At just past noon, a guardsman came bursting into Donnic’s office.  “Sir, sir, there’s fighting in Darktown.  Explosions and bodies everywhere.  Should I send out the alarm?”

“Did you hear laughing and also barking?”

“Uh… yes. I suppose so.”

Donnic sighed.  “No, no alarm.  Take a squad and secure the perimeter, make sure no bystanders wander into it. I’ll get a clean-up crew together. If we’re lucky, we’ll only need the large shovel.” He frowned at the gaping guardsman. “Get to it, dismissed.”

The guardsman, who was young and new to the city and probably didn’t deserve this, snapped a wobbly salute, turned on her heel and marched out of the office. She even managed to maintain military discipline until she was all the way around the corner and down the hall. She’d never seen a dead body before moving to Kirkwall, and so far today she’d seen eight. Probably eight. A couple of them had been kind of… jumbled.  And her senior officer just seemed… annoyed. What kind of city _was_ this?

 

“Your pathetic magics are no match for the full power of the Imperium,” the magister was braying from behind a wall of heavily armed Vint mercenaries. “Your foolish Chantry has shackled you for too long! Join me, and I will show you—augh!” The rant ended abruptly as Hawke set the man on fire.

“I’m an apostate, jackass!”

Aveline sighed as she deflected a spear thrust, then hacked out a throat. “I really wish you wouldn’t yell that every time.”

Varric grinned. “It’s not like this is a city full of insane Templars or anything.” Bianca bucked in his hands, and a Tevinter toppled over.

Across the room, Isabela ran up a wall, flipped over a pair of thugs and sliced them both open on the way down. “How can you tell they’re insane?  Some of them seem quite hospitable.”

Hawke’s face split in a shit-eating grin. “I’m sure it’s just a Templar-ary condition.”. The squad groaned.

“THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE,” the magister bellowed as staggered to his feet. “Taste true power!” Raw energy boiled around him, blasting everyone from their feet.  When the dust settled, a massive, growling Pride Demon stood amid the bloody scraps where the magister had been.  The beast’s hulking shoulders were silhouetted against the setting sun.

“Well,” said Hawke, “probably should have saved some spells for this.”

Isabela grimaced. “There’s always one of these at the end.”

Varric nodded. “The narrative demands it.”

Aveline rolled her shoulders and dropped into a fighting stance. “Alright, you overgrown poltergeist, let’s get on with it.”

The pride demon snarled and prepared to pounce.

The door behind the demon was abruptly kicked open and Donnic stormed in.  “NO.” He hacked his sword across the demon’s hamstring and it crashed to one knee with an almost comical expression. “I SAID BE HOME BY SUNDOWN.” He hacked open the demon’s back down to the bone, and it crashed to the floor. “I HAVE DINNER PLANS.” He stepped up on the demon’s oozing back and, with one heavy swing, chopped its head off.

Isabela grinned. “I am really turned on right now.”

“Yup,” Hawke agreed.

“Isabela,” Aveline said with mock sweetness, “he’s ours. Piss off.” Isabela laughed.

Donnic hopped off the demon corpse as it began to dissolve. He walked over to his spouses with a look of concern. “Are you two all right?”

“Yes, my love,” Aveline replied tenderly.  “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Oh, good.” He kissed them both, and then without warning switched from concerned to scolding. “So then why couldn’t you both be back by sundown!”

“Well, technically, the sun’s not down yet,” Hawke ventured cautiously.

“Don’t you give me technically,” Donnic responded sharply, shoving them both towards the kicked-in door. “I baked. A. Cake.”

“You know,” Varric said to Isabela as they watched their friends walk away, “I think we just got a glimpse of who really runs this city.”

Isabela laughed and put an arm around his shoulders. “Hanged Man?”

“Hanged Man.” Varric paused in thought. “I just hope they bring some of that cake by later.”


End file.
